


If I told you once

by TearingCold



Category: Daredevil (TV)
Genre: Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Mental Health Issues, Mental Instability, Unhealthy Relationships, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-18
Updated: 2018-11-27
Packaged: 2019-08-25 13:26:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 10,316
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16661853
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TearingCold/pseuds/TearingCold
Summary: A SWAT specialist with mental issues has to choose between being driven away from her squad for training or losing her job, which she deeply needs in more than one way.Her boss thinks this time off is for her best, but he doesn't know the person who's going to train her won't do wonders for her mental health, or his own.This is my first work so... You're warned





	1. Opera Nine

**Author's Note:**

> Ok, bear with me since I'll find one hundred thousand typos as soon as I upload this. Also, english is not my first language so any grammar mistake correction will be greatly appreciated.  
> Praise, criticism, severe insulting and hate are all welcome, but I hope you'll enjoy.
> 
> This is going to be a long, long fic, the kind you may like if you appreciate slowly built climax and solid plot. If you're only here for mature contents... I promise I'll get a huuuuge mark on those chapters ;P

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No Dex in this one, I'm just introducing the OFC.  
> Hope it's pleasant to read anyway.

She was nervous while waiting for her turn to enter the Sergeant office. There was no gunfire, no operation, no dangerous  mess of limbs she felt uncomfortable into, but THIS was an entire different story. She chewed on the inside of her bottom lip, shifting her weight from one foot to the other and perfectly rebalancing it in that stiff standing posture she couldn't help, after so many years of training.  
After every successful operation the whole team usually got summoned for congratulations - and official commendations, of course. But that was the whole team, and she was used to it. Now she was alone, just like the week before when they offered her that promotion. Praises, a pat on the back and the raise, a huge one. "You proved your ability at coordinating your teammates, Bennett" she didn't like the way it started "and I'm sure Officer Campbell wouldn't have managed it better"  
They started Mercyfall operation without a coordinator. Officer coordinator Campbell had ben their guide since before she started, since before any of the guys remembered, and that day - just that morning, during breakfast - he had that heart attack. He was rushed to the hospital by his wife and, while he was out of danger, he had to rest and stay under observation for a while. And the whole team was devastated: he was the best, the absolute best. His plans were painfully amazing, he could exploit each and every skill and feature of the six of them to the point they really just acted like a single man, a single mind, circling and choking their target as one and shutting the operation down flawlessy. He was the driving force of their compactness, and that morning the team was wrecked. Plans were on the table, were discussed the days prior and they knew what to do. They just lacked the strenghto to carry on as one. Their training in close distance, range and tactics and their specialties seemed to matter not, that morning.  
"We're going to die out there. We're going to make a mess and die" Hayes was tapping on the scope of his Remington. 380. Every other sniper in every other team had a Winchester, he wanted the Remington. It was his mark: that and the contagious optimism.  
"Robert, please. We'll manage, we are trained, we know the plan. Campbell already did his part" Lee was the complete opposite. Crisis negotiatior and grenadier, his peculiarities were most unique. His motto was something like "if you can't talk them out of shit, just blow them up". He was good at both.  
"Yeah, he did, Andrew. But there'a reason he was with us all the time" Volkov, breacher and the only other woman in the team. She had lead them through screaming hells like they were the elysium fields and safe back.  
"He wasn't with us. He was in our ears, Ekaterina."  Baker, technology. He was so meticulous he was fussy, and got the best choice in a matter of split seconds. Always. Always.  
"I would agree with our dearest bomb-freak here, if this wasn't Mercyfall. We need a coordinator in this. We need someone to have it under control, from the outside" Rivera, vehicles. There was probably nothing he could not drive, and there was nothing of it she would possibly join as a passenger, aside from job.  
There was discomfort and desperation while she was staring at the papers, the maps, the plans.  
"It's not up to us" Volkov again, a slight russian accent on "us" "they will walk through the door and tell us if we have to do this or not. It's not our call to make"  
"Like hell it is! They don't get to pat my back into suicide, Kat! Our contract requires an Officer for every operation. We have not" optimism flowing freely  
"They'll give us Marshall or Ramirez, come on. Everything is written here" Lee tapped on one of the plans "they'll just have to follow Campbell's agenda"  
Rivera spat on the floor "Ramirez can suck my big dick. I'll be dead before I get one of those two give me orders. And their orders would end up in us dead anyway"  
"Campbell was the only one" Baker agreed "we all know that... Come on. We only take orders from ourselves. There's only so much we can push us through."  
Diana Bennett inhaled deeply while leaning back on the chair and crossing her feet on the table. "Take orders from me then" she exhaled in one breath.  
Her five comraders froze. That was a huge statement.  
"We all saved each other lives multiple time. I won't go through it all but I owe you, and you owe me. I trust every single one of you with my life, blindly. So if any of you wants the leadership instead... Please just speak up. I trust we are all capable of saving all six asses around this table AND the day, but if none thinks he can put the speaker on and rattle off Campbell's agenda... I'll do it. It's all in here" she tapped her forhead with her right index finger.  
"I'm sure you remember it all, Die" it was her nickname. It's fun when you're the hand-to-hand combat expert "but what if something unexpected comes out? Something he would coordinate us right through?"  
"Oh" Diana smiled, wry and one-sided, slowly removed her feet from the table, stood up and leaned toward the sniper, her hands on the table "this is Mercyfall, Robert. Today, we are the unexpected".

Six hours later, they all came out bruised, alive and successful. They laughed the night away, drinking and rasing toasts to Campbell. They called him late, and left a voicemail. They wanted him to be proud. 

Two days after, she was called into Sergeant Cooper office.  
"and I'm sure Officer Campbell wouldn't have managed it better".  
Well yeah, he would have, but she listened.  
"Diana, your team is great and your leadership... You're a natural. We think that cannot be laid to waste. We'd like to offer you a promotion as Leader Officer" he went on, enumerating privileges and access and raises and career and she wasn't listening anymore.  
"Sir, thank you Sir, but I need this job"  
Cooper looked at her, a quizzical look on his face.  
"Private, if you mean you want to work with your team, this was our plan all along. After the training, you'll return to your team and we' ll give Officer Campbell a well-deserved retirement"  
So that was it. They were going for the long run.  
"I'm sorry Sir, but I will have to turn your offer down"  
Cooper's jaw was on the floor  
"I belong to the field, Sir. I'm sorry"  
She saluted and left, while he really didn't know what to say. 

And now THIS. The neon light flickered as Sergeant Moore's door opened and closed, some guy from Coral Triple team getting out and away, fast paced.  
"Come in Bennett" David Oswald Moore' s deep voice called her from inside.  
She stepped in, stiff, the black henley with her last name strapped on it shivered slightly on her chest as she exhaled and saluted, the only acknowledgement of tension she let out.  
"Diana, for all saints' sake, just relax and please, sit." Moore removed his glasses and proceeded to clean their lenses with a shammy cloth.  
"If you don't mind Sir, I'd rather..."  
"Cut the 'Sir' crap and fucking sit"  
She clenched her jaw and sat on the leather armchair, looking Moore in the eyes. He folded his glasses temples, gently placed them on the table, near a delicately carved letter-opener, and looked back.  
"You know why you're here, right?"  
"David, I had all the right to turn that promotion down. There's plenty of guys that want that job, think about that... What was his name, Jing? Xing? From the Vega Orange. Campbell can retire in righteous peace when the time comes, we're not out of leaders. I don't want that job. I want the field, I want my team, that's what I do best and you know that."  
Campbell exhaled loudly, his fingers intertwined on the desk, and the look on his face that made her understand there was way, way more.  
"we offered you that job to get you out of the field, at least for a while"  
Something inside her shattered like a glass on the floor.  
"what... I... Is it... Is it because of my lack of sniper training? I can..." she had always been less-than-her-team-average on long-range, she had always  
tried to get better but again, that was what Rob was there for, they all lacked in something, they where only whole together and they were the best. She knew they were. She couldn't understand.  
Sergeant Moore leaned slightly forward. He probably didn't even notice it, but she did while all blood faded off her face, hands and feet to get lost in some painful ball in her stomach.  
"When we retrieved the bodies from operation Seashell-"  
'seven months ago' she thought  
"I classified the coroner report on that dealer, Hick Cayman, whatever was his nickname. You know why, right?"  
Her gaze got darker. She knew why.  
"I thought he may have done something. Maybe there was something personal between the two of you, and I couldn't blame you for that. We all make enemies, especially us... And we all have to let it out from time to time, right?"  
She knew where this was going exactly. Moore looked at his glasses, shoved off a fly and went on.  
"Then there was Manhattan18. We all saw what happened to Kate's leg there and we all pretended not to see when we got those corpses in bits and pieces, but Lawrence started asking questions. It wasn't just the state of the bodies, Diana... It was the time it took you. Opera Nine was only inside for a few minutes. Lawrence didn't agree to classifying it this time and I could only have the weapons obscured from the ballistic report, but we all knew that. There are only so many Hecates in the world."  
Her hand run to her belt where it was strapped. Hydra Hecate tactical knife, one of 60 ever made sold. It was smooth, balanced and huge, and looked even huger in her hand. She loved the way she could stab with it so many, so many times in a few seconds. No serrations meant it could come in and out with minimum friction, the blood coming out with it and inside again.  
"And then there was that shit in Connecticut, Hometown Opens, Cherrystings... There was always one of those bodies, or more"  
She frowned, desperation surfacing for just a fraction of a moment.  
"Lee throws fucking granades in. We cover them in shrapnels and splinters and Rob blows their brains off and, when we are under secret contract, we piss the soul out of the cleaning squad because of the havoc but what I do is the problem?"  
"You know how much Lawrence hates you, Diana"  
"I fucking know! Andrew, I don't bring him to Disciplinary Committee because he doesn't open the window after he takes a shit, no matter how much I'd like to"  
Moore sighed softly.  
"Yeah. But he got an independent examiner"  
"He got the fuck what?"  
"I don't know how he did it. He used all the connections he had to do it without an internal investigation, but the guy agreed that was the work of a psychopath and we had to consider it. We had."  
She hid her head in her hands, elbows on her knees. She didn't think it was so bad. But it was.  
"Hey hey girl please, no. Diana. Diana, look at me here"  
She raised her head. Moore had always been good to her. It was undeserved, but his big, black shape and the gentle look in her eyes did the trick and soothed the crisis for just the moment "not now" she thought "no adrenaline, not now, not in front of him"  
"this was the bad news. Good news is, everyone appreciates you and Opera Nine, and none liked it from Lawrence. He could not be ignored, but he is currently facing consequences and an investigation for violating protocol and showing classified material to that external psychiatrist. When he'll be cleared for duty again, he does so much as looking at you for too long and Disciplinary Committee is on him, but Amberland had to look into the matter anyway."  
Amberland, their psychiatrist. She had always tricked him into thinking she was perfectly stable.  
"He agreed you need some time off. At least off the field. So we tried to kill two birds with one stone after Mercyfall"  
"The promotion"  
"Yeah. But you turned it down, and this leaves us with two options only"  
"David, please. Don't do this to me"  
"Diana, girl" tenderness in his eyes and voice "you haven't been on a holiday in years. And don't sell me the 'I don' t take days off cause I'm needed' crap: Opera Nine rests, Volkov went back to her family in Russia for what, two months? We can arrange your holidays according to operations, you know that. There must be someone you want to visit: family, friends, neighbors..." 

She shook her head to the left in a twitch, lips serrated and her gaze averted from Moore. Then she regained her military restraint.  
"David, there's none. This is all I have. Opera is all I have, and you know that. I can't just stay home and go shopping or gardening or party. I don't want to and I can't"  
"Yeah" he nodded in resignation "Amberland said you would have said that. It leaves us with option number two: mandatory training"  
Some angel orchestra played a soft trumpet melody in the background of her brain  
"Mandatory training? You mean sniper training?"  
"Yeah, unless you'd like to choose another Specialty"  
"No I... We already have everything else covered. Sure Sergeant I'll take that. I'm sure Rob can start right aw.."  
"Away from here"  
Silence, and her hand cleaning her lips from nothing, spoke big volumes.  
"This is not negotiable, Diana. You have to take a break somewhere else, this is our last option, or you'll be suspended. We know Hayes is one of the best snipers we have ever trained and I agree you could learn much from him, but this isn't really about learning. Your trainer will be a great sniper anyway, and you WILL acquire new skills. Please, accept it. It's only for a few months, you'll come back stronger and more skilled for your team and Opera Nine isn't going anywhere, I promise it will all be the same when you come back. Please. "  
Moore wasn't much of a 'please' person. He really cared this time.  
" Where... Who would train me? "  
"Hell's Kitchen. There's an FBI division there, and a decorated agent who already agreed to it. There's an apartment we own there, you can have it while you stay. No, you keep it" he stopped her from giving him his badge and gun as she got up "you are not suspended, it's officially just training to make up for a lacking skill, as you suspected" he smiled "plus, you are really not defenseless without a gun" the smile got broader and she smiled too.  
"Thanks David. This... You are right. Some time off is going to do me good. Maybe I'm really on the verge of burnout" she lied through her teeth. That was the only way to keep her job, to go out and kill again.  
"I'm glad you got it" he walked around the table and crushed her in a big hug. Then, hands on her shoulder, he dismissed her.  
"They're waiting for you, three days from now. Say hello to the Operas, throw a goddamn party, lay wasted in alcohol and take a deep breath. When you get there, ask for Officer Hattley and she'll introduce you to Agent Poindexter, your trainer."  
"I hope he's good, Moore. I hope he's really as good as Robert"  
"His records speak big volumes, girl, and they guaranteed he's a really, really good guy. You need that stability right now, more than anything else. Now go, and good luck"


	2. Bullets and lies

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey hey here's your favourite sniper :P
> 
> Please comment, message me or whatever with your opinion, it matters!

She actually threw the goddamn party.  
Music, some good bottle, chips and her team, drinking and remembering, some good advice and some stupid one, and a gift.  
"Made this for you" said Baker, handling her a blue pendrive, scratching his head "We put all our favourites in, so you will think of us, you know. But you'll have to endure through Rivera's reggaeton, if you wanna think about him too"  
"Go fuck yourself with a knife, Aaron" he said, raising his middle fingers, and they all laughed.  
"Yeah. We'll wait for you, so you can show Robert what a sniper really is."  
She looked at the ground, pushing her knuckles on her forhead for a second. Did they know what was behind this?  
"I... Thanks guys. That really means a lot. I promise I'll make our rifle-nerd envious" Diana said, blowing him a kiss.  
Kate was the one to speak. She had always been able to see through her in some way.  
"Hey, we know." They all nodded. "And we just don't care".  
Tears surfaced her eyes.  
Getting away from all this was hard, but the next morning, pendrive in her car stereo, she drove to Hell's Kitchen. 'I'd really like to see some officer's face as they stop me for a trunk check' she chuckled internally, speakers screaming "Fear of the dark" from Iron Maiden, surely one of Lee's favourites. Her car was packed with weapons, which she cared for way more than clothing. That, and it would have been unwise to leave her arsenal in an empty flat.

She had set herself quite well in the SWAT apartment. It was equipped with crockery and sheet and a cool view on the skyline, so she had to just put her pictures and toothbrush in place. She had a stroll through the city that night, feeling the cold on her face and inhaling the scent of pine resin, dirty sidewalks and traffic.  
She could feel it surface through her skin, a rush of adrenaline that made her hair stand up and her eyes look, desperately look for a fight. Nerves, bloody nerves. She inhaled. Lit a cigarette up. Exhaled. Inhaled the smoke.  
Nicotine could sooth her nerves, and she didn't need it that often anymore: her job did most of the trick. But here in Hell's Kitchen... She wondered what she could do to satisfy her urges, while behaving in the eye of the FBI so she could come back clean and free of any suspicion. 

Next day, she walked the Bureau's door and had her way shown by a redhead receptionist, too busy answering calls. She was checked and double checked by the agents at the doors, had to show her badge and was finally clear to proceed to the eleventh floor. She walked the rows of white ties busy on their desks, cups of coffee on paper and formal jackets hanging from their chairs and felt ridiculously out of place with her cargo trousers, green parka and blue locks. Nobody pretty much cared about squads' hairstyle or clothing, after they finished their training at the academy. Rivera had fucking tattoos on his head. Here, everyone looked so... Buttoned up. Everyone looked at her.  
Officer Hattley's door, her name engraved in metal letters on the glass door. She knocked and was told to come in.  
Hattley's face pretty much said it all. Yeah, sorry, crazy blue hair SWAT at your door.  
"Officer Hattley? I believe you were expecting me. I'm Private Bennet" She extended her hand and, after a glimpse of acknowledgement on her face, Hattley shook it and nodded to someone behind her.  
"You're welcome, Private. Yes, I was expecting you, but the picture on your file must be outdated. I apologize for failing to recognize you at first sight. Let me say I was looking for this kind of cooperation between the core Bureau and the SWATs" she said, in the most polite and formal tone. "Here" she pointed to a tall, blonde guy that had just entered the room, called by her nod "let me introduce you to agent Benjamin Poindexter".  
The two shook hands, staring for a second in each other's eyes and uttering a well-required "nice to meet you". Hattley went on.  
"Agent Poindexter will be your trainer for the whole time. His accomplishments as a sniper are way beyond exceptional and I'm sure Sergeant Moore provided you with his file, so I won' t go over it again. You are in the best of hands" she smiled at him. "He will show you around, introduce you to the facility and the areas you can access. You'll have to stand by him during all of working hours, which will include your training and field mission" she turned to face him "Yeah, no paperwork until you have to take care of this, Dex. Now, I'm sure a busy day awaits you two ahead"  
The both of them took the hint, formally thanked and left.  
As she walked through the door, a sigh of relief breathed through her lips. So, something on the field was involved: that meant something she could murder, and get away with. Maybe this whole idea was not so bad.  
She turned right to face her trainer, averting her eyes from the white ties army, high on caffeine and paperwork "So, Agent Poindexter" at least he was wearing a sweater and not some suit  
"Call me Dex" he slightly tilted his head one side, a slight hint of a smile  
"Sure Dex, you can call me Di... Nevermind. Where do we start?"  
He lead her through rooms and corridors towards different areas, starting from basic facilities she would have all access to: the gym, restrooms, cafeteria, storage room.  
"Remember to pick a locker so you can stuff your own weapons and vests if you want to bring them in. Ask for keys at 4th floor reception" she observed him through all the guided tour. He was a rather handsome man, dark blonde hair cut short, 5 o'clock beard, lean figure fast and agile while moving and she could feel the trigger mark on his middle finger when she shook his hand, same as her. He felt pretty much... Plain, for now.  
'stop judging, you don' t know him' she had to force it on herself every time 'stop thinking you' re always better' it was part of her disease. She couldn't help it too much.  
They reached the shooting range, at last. "Here, so it begins, right?" both adjusted a vest on, and Dex pointed to a rifle with a half smile she was becoming familiar with "come on, show me what I have to work on"  
While she checked ammo and weight of the Winchester - yeah, Rob would have disapproved - Dex moved the target to 400 yards.  
He stood by the shooting point, ear protection ready, and watched her movements as she positioned herself and took aim "give me 3 shots to the head".  
She put her ear and eyes protection on and fired. All bullets hit the target.  
He nodded approvingly "not bad uh?". He moved target to 600 yards. Yeah that would have been hard.  
Winchester's maximum range was about 1.500 yards, if she remembered well. 600 started to be a problem for her.  
"3 shots to the head, again"  
She inhalex, looked through the scope and exhaled while the first bullet missed the head shape by a good inch. She got the other two. Dex had her shooting at different ranges for a while, then moved his ear protection down around his neck  
"well, you are decently good" he stated  
"yeah, decently good. I need way more than that."  
"you don't fire long-range that much, right?"  
"no I... I'm the hand-to-hand expertise. I *can* fire from a certain range if it's required, I'm trained, you've seen that...but I'm relying on closed-range tactics too much. But I guess you've already been told"  - and let' s hope that's all they told you, she thought.  
"There's some small adjustment you could put at work right now, I'll show you"  
"Wait, wait" she stopped him  
He frowned, a quizzical look on his face  
"Everyone's been telling me how inhumanly good you are... I want to see it with my own eyes now. Come on, just a little show off."  
Dex raised his hands and shrugged  
"Fine. I'll do it"  
He took her rifle and her place as she changed the target with a clean one.  
"You care getting it a little farther?"  
"Sure, how far?"  
"Hit the back wall"  
"What?" she jumped "you really believe in yourself, man"  
She complied and Dex looked through the scope. She thought it would have required him time, focus, but he shot 9 bullets in sequence and raised the rifle against his shoulder.  
"Get it here, take a look" The sheet target head had a hole in its forhead, surrounded by 8 others in a circle, in the rough shape of a flower.  
She was overexcited "how on earth do you do that? Shit man, this is next level stuff!" she touched the holes in disbelief.  
"Well, as I said, there's some little adjustment you can apply"  
"Now you're bragging"  
She regained the rifle and he stood behind her, assisting as she positioned herself, took aim, fired.  
He took her head between his hands, fingertip contact, and moved it slightly "don't tilt your head, not for this range. Try looking straight in front of you"  
His touch on her head was pretty light but intense and his body was warm, she could feel it behind her on her neck and shoulders where the vest wouldn't cover. Close contact was something she was uncomfortable with, if no fight was involved.  
"Don't twitch your finger" she tried to ignore the uneasiness caused by his hand on hers "stay steady"  
He seemed to notice "Sorry for all the touching. It makes me uncomfortable too, you know" he took a step back.  
"yeah hey... Don't worry, I'm grateful you agreed to teaching me. This is already going so well and man, your skills are really something out of this world"  
He smiled almost shily and his sight fell on his watch.  
"That was enough for today uh?"  
She looked at the time and agreed "Yeah, way past 6... Sorry, we really lost track of time" she paused and felt something else was required to be said "You wanna grab something for dinner?" she added and could suddenly feel something about him, something different, uneasiness surfacing for a split second, instantly choked by his answer.  
"Oh I'd like to, but... I'm meeting up with someone tonight. Sorry, really. Maybe tomorrow uh?"  
A lie. She wasn't good at understanding when somebody lied, unless... Well, unless it was a lie like hers. A lie from the mask she needed to use in society, to be accepted. A lie that was easy to believe.  
Or maybe he just didn't like the idea of having dinner with her. Then, why  suggesting they could have it tomorrow? Nah.  
The bell  inside her was ringing its warning, and as she said goodbye, grabbed her stuff and left the building, she knew she had something to do for the night. She bought a snackbar from the vending machine, got in her car and found a quiet spot where the parking exit could be seen.  
She waited for a couple of other cars to get out of it, after Dex did.  
"Let's see what you really are up to"


	3. Mirrors

He was nervous while driving round the corner and shutting the car down in the parking lot.  
A gust of wind howled lightly through one of the back window, which must had been slightly lowered. It hit him hard, recognizing how such small things could cause him some severe discomfort, disrupt his peace and potentially trigger a breakdown, his real self fully breaking loose.  
But he was so close to seeing her again, and everything would have been worth it. He breathed deeply while unpacking the extra-spicy take-away noodles from the eco-bag, anticipating the moment.  
He had agreed to train that SWAT woman mostly because everyone had praised him and pointed at him as the best candidate - they were pretty much expecting it from him - and of course because that may have meant some more going out on the field. 3t had not been unpleasant: she was polite - something that her appearance didn't suggest, and a fast learner, and he enjoyed so much showing his skills off, until that awkward, intrusive feeling as if she could read through his skin and know, just _know_ that what he was saying wasn't the truth. It lasted just a second and everything seemed perfectly normal, sociable, acceptable after that, but it had been a second too much and he found himself watching his rearview mirror too many times in his way to the Golden Dragon Restaurant. Everything seemed fine now, road was clear and he was just being too paranoid - he had his reasons, of course - but they all vanished when the well-known shape in a black coat walked down to the restaurant, bright red hair moving lightly at the cold breeze, and gently opened the door to let a young couple with a stroller walk out. They exchanged smiles and plesantries, and she ordered her food at the desk with her usual good manners, laughing at some joke the waiter made. He smiled with a nostalgic look on his face, like a man watching the distant stars and wondering how such unreachable marvels should really _feel_ if they could be touched.

Not so distant, Bennet was watching him, hidden behind a green truck, her car parked in a cross-street and the hood of her sweatshirt hiding her hair. She had no binoculars nor a scope, and was afraid he could have catched the glimpse of it anyhow, but from what she could see the situation was pretty bizarre: she had followed him to this parking lot, get a single portion of something from the restaurant nearby and get in the car again. Nothing had happened for quite a while and she was becoming pretty sure he had his own reasons, maybe he just liked eating on his car, as odd as it may have been. Maybe it was the anniversary of some loss - man, the weird things people do when they lose someone. But the bag of noodles, left untouched on the passenger seat, suggested that something still had to happen - and it was right.  
The girl was just another bystander for her, but clearly not for him. She observed both with great interest but, even if the girl was in plain sight, all she could see of him was his right arm and too few of his face to really get an idea of what crossed his mind. Anyway, him getting the chopsticks out and have his way with the noodles just as she did, inside the restaurant, was enough of an information.  
She whistled briefly in disbelief "so that's your secret, you stalker" she whispered in the wind, while getting a cigarette out of the pack and between her lips. Yeah, that was a pretty decent reason for lying - but not the one she was hoping for, anyway.  
Something crossed her mind for a second, too fast for her to catch the whole thought, something about him mirroring her actions that wasn't just... Wasn't only... But she couldn't complete the sentence. _Maybe there is more_ she thought while turning back towards her car _but I have plenty of time to investigate it anyway_.

Next day, shift started at 1 pm and they found themselves both in the cafeteria, half an hour before it, trays in their hands.  
"Hey, Dex" she greeted, approaching him, anticipating that small talk she hated so much.  
He greeted her with his usual smirk and nodded a greeting towards a table where a group of agents was already eating and talking  
"Hey. Nice to see you're on time"  
"On time and up to a good... Whatever this soup is"  
"Well, I'm sorry to point out that should be spaghetti and meatballs"  
She sported the most disgusted face and he laughed "So this is just... All... Sauce?"  
"Yeeeah..." he led her towards the table where his usual partners were sitting, introducing her and letting the small talk really begin. She was very good at it even if, at the end of the day, all those little efforts at hiding her feelings, and her disregard towards other people, took their toll and pushed her that inch towards having to let it all out her way.  
She listened to the agents' questions about her place of work, Moore - who was apparently pretty famous among the FBI venues, and did she like Hell's Kitchen? How was the place she was staying at? And the usual jokes, addressed to Dex, about not making her training too hard and giving her time to have fun and man, this shit never gets old, really.

Dex had spent part of the night before wondering if he was actually being paranoid, or if she really had catched a hint of him, under the surface. It had took him some time to fall asleep. But now she was behaving just normally, not even paying him that much of attention, and he relaxed. It was all in his head.

When the clock stroke 1, she was extremely relieved to see Dex was just as on point as her, and they both left the table for the shooting range after cheerfully taking leave.  
The afternoon progressed as she listened to him, followed his advice and practiced. They took a break after a couple of hours, earmuffs off.  
"See, once you get the hint at the basics, it's just a matter of practice"  
"The basics" she said, mimicking his voice, defiance on her face  
"I don't mean the basic basics... Come on, you know what I mean" Dex giggled "if you mean to go a long way... And you can, by all means... Your starting point should be seen as the basics" he shrugged as she laughed  
"Double-talk, anyone"  
They both laughed. She couldn't avoid but think the sound of both ringed like empty crystal, and too fake. She couldn't be wrong all this times.  
"So, what will this training provide besides your long-sought wisdom?" she joked carefully "I mean, when will we be on the field?"  
"Eager to? So am I" he nodded with a warm tone in his voice. Truth. Interesting.  
She pushed it farther "Yeah I mean... I can't just shoot at _things_ all day long. Well, I can, technically, but I suppose I may learn a lot just watching you in action"  
"Oh, you bet"  
She shrugged, an approving smirk on her lips "I don't like modest people anyway"  
He was easy to talk to. They both were. And this conversation had set the field for it.  
"So, how was your date last night?" she threw it in with the casual charm Lee usually handled granades with  
"Date?"  
"You... Were meeting with someone, right?"  
"Yeah, sure, right, but that was not a date so... Sorry, that confused me" he stumbled upon the words a bit, but that was it. Suspicion arouse for a second "It was good anyway, thanks"  
And it didn't die off at her "Good". He could not control his paranoia, he just had to dig deeper into this. It stroke him twice already. He couldn't bear other half-slept nights, they would have thrown him off his strict routine and then... Well, that wouldn't have been pleasant for anyone, would it.  
"But hey, I really didn't mean to dump you yesterday. I'm your trainer, it's my duty to show you around, right?" he opened his hands in a friendly gesture "what about mexican food? Tonight?"  
"I'm still starving from that shitty-meatball-soup-spaghetti so that's definitely a yes"  
His smile broadened. _Let's see if I can get what you' re up to, girl_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, you getting better acquainted with both?


	4. Glittering shrapnels

Tension can be built in such odd ways.  
Whoever would have looked at them, would have seen a friendly pair strolling towards the Taco House, his quiet composure as he opened the door for both and her almost amused half-grin as she thanked him. Sitting on the same side of a table and exchanging words, talking in turns, reacting to the other - all the right emotions in the right place.  
A very, very careful eye would have seen an imperceptible twitch of the lips, a slight delay in a smile that didn't reach the eyes, the wrong gesture that lasted just a split second too much.

But they, they could feel two walls of lies facing each other. It takes a psychopath to recognize one, and they were definitely recognizing each other - slowly, in trials and errors.

"So, why Hell's Kitchen? I mean, I'm sure the FBI has a number of specialists near your base" he asked, nodding a thanks to the waitress who put the plates in front of them.  
She attacked a taco and signaled him to wait, blatantly chewing.  
"Yeah, uh. Of course there are, there's a great sniper in my team, Robert. You'd like him"  
The _we'd see that_ in his face immediately shaped in the mask of the interested listener  
"But boss thought I had to broaden my horizons. I've been in the SWAT the whole time, since the beginning, and that didn't make me progress in long-range any further. None beside Robert would take care of the core snipering, of course, but I am below average for my team anyway"  
"That must be very hard" he answered by default, while feeling in his bones that there was more, way more to it. Was she sent to spy on him? Was it her boss' idea, or hers?

She frowned slightly at his answer before going on, as if it had something wrong in it "I'm glad you accepted. You do are extremely skilled, and a good teacher" praise always worked with people like her. It worked with him too, rewarding her with a half smile and a side glance straight in her eyes while biting the tortilla: that was real amusement. He took great pleasure in his skills, that was for certain.

Dex had mixed feelings. Her military training had surely given her the due restraint in her interactions, as it did for him, and that would distort and hide her natural reactions, but neither she looked interested in his business the day before, or his personal life at all. Maybe she was really just trying to set up a conversation all along: she was alone in this new city, none to go out with... And people like to have someone to talk to, eat with, share. But his instincts didn't agree. 

"Your file says you live up to the expectation too" he leaned against the backrest of the chair, stretching one arm on her side.  
"So one of us really read those?" Was he sent the unclassified version? Or did he know?  
"You didn't?" surprise surfaced  
"Nah, I trusted my boss when he said I would be paired with the very best" she winked  
"I may get used to the flattery, you know"  
"Or going out with a different girl every night" she realized what slipped through her lips the moment it did.  
The tension that had poked and surfaced and backed off the whole evening, suddenly exploded in glittering chips that both could _feel_ falling between them.  
They both processed it immediately.  
Dex clenched his jaw, his usual facade chipped "What do you mean?"  
She looked at him openly, exploiting her ability to hide her feeling in plain sight "You went out with a girl yesterday, right?"  
"I... How do you know? I never said it was a girl" his tone was painfully plain.  
"Oh, men never turn off a night with a girl, if that's not for another girl" _please applaude while curtains close on Diana, starring actress of tonight's drama, Life._  
She would have fooled anyone but, despite his contained demeanor, she knew her performance didn't fool him. And arising, hiding below the surface, glimpsing in some fragment of restless gesture, she could feel it.  
Fear and danger.  
They hit her like a strong gust of wind, throwing her off balance and screaming in her ears, a feeling that only lasted a second but she was surprised it didn't actually lift her off the chair and throw her against the wall.

But Dex played along. He laughed "Yeah, you're right. Hope that doesn't make you jealous"  
"Nah, unless she's a better sniper than me"  
"Doubt that" Dex chuckled, dimples on his cheeks too deep for him to be relaxed "And I really read your file, yes. You seem to have remarkable skills in closed-range combat. What do you usually fight with?"  
She dipped some fry in the guacamole sauce "If you're referring to firearms, I'm afraid I'll be a huge disappointment" she chowed "I like the usual P220 as a gun. And you really strike me as the firearm guy"  
"The ways I could strike you with, may be surprising"  
Fear and danger, again. This time she embraced it, dwelved into it. She was starting to like him.  
"Ok then, besides hand-to-hand, I'm a huge knives enthusiast"  
"Not the usual Smith&Wesson, then" he liked weapons anyway. But yes, he was more into guns and rifles  
"Hecate"  
He lifted an eyebrow "Never heard of it"  
"Maybe I'll show you one day" this time it was his time to feel that fear and that danger. It was exploding hot and suddenly cold right at the core of him. He looked at his plate, his ears and neck blushing.  
"Hey, I have an idea" he moistened his lips with his tongue "Why don't we grapple a little tomorrow? Bureau's gym is cool and I'm sure you wanna keep practicing while here, plus... I could use some training myself, and you really seem the best candidate for it. A skill for a skill, what do you say?"  
She agreed enthusiastically, the broadest smile on her face and shiny reflexes on her blue locks as she nodded, while the both of them had just one thought in mind: _letting that fear and danger out on each other._

As they walked out of the Taco House, whoever had looked at them would have seen a couple of friends waving goodbye, clouds of breath in the cold air as they promised to meet in the morning.  
But a very, very careful eye would have seen something like glittering, reflecting shrapnels hang in mid hair, as if something had broken in a bang.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Better? Better.  
> Don't blame me, this chapter basically wrote itself.


	5. Monsters

She got to the gym pretty early and spent some time punching and kicking the bags. It appeared all FBI headquarter's training place looked the same: same equipment layout, same brands, pretty much same amount of any given item. Wrapping her hands before strapping the 4-ounce gloves on, her mind wandered to agent Poindexter's file.  
She read it the night before, finally, and her interest blazed at how clean, spotless, perfect it was - and she was not referring to the great accomplishments and career. If he really was what she suspected - it being a psychopath or a stalker either - than some therapist must have done a great job at teaching him how to hide it. He left no marks, no hint, no half-hidden claim of his instincts - and if they were the same kind of monster, it was remarkable.

Kicks and punches hit the bag at full speed. She had no idea she was so stressed-out, no wonder she needed the killing so bad. But blows would substitute it for a while.   
Her own file was a bloody mess of gore - as it was expected, but that was her way: hiding in plain sight, always. Being the monster where a monster is needed, having the States build the war-machine, proudly claiming credits for the slaughter she stood in front of.  
Yes, she had to fake social interactions but she could smear the monster all over everyone's face and being praised, and that was priceless. Also, that's why she looked so easy-going: she was free of being herself.  
Yet, it was crystal clear it slipped out of her control anyway, and she could only learn from him then: not just the shooting skills, but the restraint.  
It was bright. He was always on point, his clothes perfectly ironed and chosen, his behaviour never out of place, his words measured and compliant and, apparently, his killings neat.  
A mid-kick hit the bag strong.   
She wanted to learn, but also wanted to snap him out of it, see his true self.

But it was him snapping her out of her head.  
"Thought you would have been already here" he sported black spats and rashguard, opposed to her branded ones which were full of tags and eye-catching sketchs.   
"Yeah. Get some gloves on, would you? Unless you prefer pure grappling"  
He shook his head no "Sorry, I want the full demonstration. You had mine" he winked.  
"I'm sure that wasn't all you have to give" she suggested. 

That was becoming a problem. He was used to his quiet hiding, walking undetected among normal people: that was what Doctor Mercer had taught him and none ever saw the monster under the mask, unless he allowed them to - and then they were dead. He stuck to her code: got the rigid hierarchy job, the tidy personal space, a north star to look up to and everything fell in place so why and how did she get a glimpse of what was under the surface? What did she see, and what game was she playing? Was she sent to expose him? What did she have on him?

He performed a quick warm-up as she wiped the sweat off her face, waiting for him "let's not make this too gross" she laughed.  
Both got in their an idea of what was gross instead, and both the pictures looked pretty similar. A fluid redder than sweat was involved.  
They started exchanging a few blows just to test each other's speed, strenght, weaknesses.  
Well, at least Dex did. Diana went auto-pilot as she scrutinized his face and gestures: not that she had no weaknesses in her game, but none he could exploit or even see.  
His attacks were on point, like everything in his facade. Straight out of the manual combos of fast jab, low-kick, throwing attempt, not necessarily in this order. Yeah, he was fast, but this was not his ground.   
She let something in, stopped something, avoided something. She tried to ignore the openings he left and committed not to get submerged by the inevitable rush of adrenaline. Don't get lost in the fight. Push him out of his comfort zone, out of his disguise. Do it.   
He had the physical advantage, of course: he was taller, stronger, longer arms and legs and leverage - but her job was to overcome this and much more.   
He had seen good fighters in action and had neutralized some from close-range, but this was entirely different. As she lowered, raised her elbows or her knee and moved out of his reach, Dex could see the perfect work of a mechanism of cogs and gears programmed to have the upper hand in any case. Yes, he hit her but it was obvious she saw it coming all along, she _allowed_ him and it was more of a practical choreography to her, who had in mind what to do a step ahead.  
Adrenaline kicked in pretty fast.   
While they were both sweating, his breath was seriously short and he noticed she slowed her pace. He was sure everything in her mind was consecutively triggered automatically: that required a lot of training of course, but she must have been exceptional in this since the beginning. A natural, like him.

The punch hit his face fast and light as she chuckled, barely audibile, as he stepped back.   
_That_ was her game, making him feel the exhaustion, strenght fading, lungs burning and hearth gone crazy, the powerlessness, the danger. Would doing it on a training mat suffice? She was open to more options, if necessary, but this was worth a try. At least she was good at it.  
She pushed him back with a front kick and performed a double-leg takedown, but stepped up instead of bringing it on the ground.   
"Come on, give me something more" 

He had not been holding back until now, but he considered unleashing his aggressiveness as her priggishness was really pissing him off. Especially because _he_ should have been the one exploiting this opportunity to have her lose control.   
_Don't play her game_ his mind instructed him as he got up and wiped his forhead with the back of his glove.

That's what she loved about hand-to-hand combat: no matter how trained and restrained you were, adrenaline, contact and survival instincts triggered unpredictable effects on people: those things talk directly to your inner monster. She had learned to embrace both the monster and what lure him out, but what about him? He was falling for it.

He attacked again, a very technical straight and upper-blow combo she avoided fancily.  
Frustration, on the verge of losing control.   
His blown pupil and slightly shaking arms said it all, and her half smile as the mid-kick painfully hit his left side definitely broke him.  
She was used to containing attacker that were extremely aggressive and unpredictable, but she let him.   
_What would a broken nose be, compared to this_ his attack was desperately frontal, and the blow hit her jaw, on the left side, with a strenght he had not shown before.  
That would be rationally speaking, while in fact it felt like her brain was in a broken elevator stopping only with emergency brakes. As she shook her head to check her jaw's place, he brought it on with a kick to her knee.  
 _Shit, he lost it for real_ that was meant to break it, but of course she had seen it beforehand and just pandered on him, falling back on the mat. Elevator with emergency brakes on, again.   
He was immediately on her, fast, punching directly at her face. She just lifted her elbow to stop the blows with her forearms and taste the moment.  
His weight on her chest was all wrong, not high enough, the hail of blows was strong and sloppy while he panted heavily, his face red and his eyes...   
_So, that's how it feels being on the wrong side of the monster..._.  
She saw it through the both of their gloves, in glimpses and pieces, while the blows landed on her closed forearms and his weight wasn't forcing her still enough, not even close to how heavy he should have kept it. Despite the technicality, she was able to feel something she hadn't felt in a lot of time - connection.  
 _You really are a piece of messed up girl, ain't ya_.   
She had seen it. She had lured him out.

Now it was showtime.   
Perfect timing as she trapped his right arm and rolled him over with a hip thrust, easily grabbing his wrists and pinning them above his head, her weight high enough on his body, heavy enough, forcing his upper body stiff enough. She enojyed the fast glance at his face. _The cornered monster_. Desperation makes mistakes.   
He manage to free his left wrist and tried to push her away, one handed. She exploited it fully, grabbing his arm and sliding her hand towards his neck, rolling him over the opposite side, her weight always heavy as she moved on him, got his back, secured her position with leg hooks and choked him.   
He tried to punch her backwards, but of course that had no effect, and finally he tried to pull her arm away from his neck.  
Now, it was hard to understand when somebody lost consciousness as you choked him: some could keep holding even when passed out, but she had choked too many not to get when they were slipping away. The will to fight slowly abandoning his body, it was a thing.   
And she did let go. 

It took him a number of huge, deep breaths to fully regain control on his exhausted body. And as he regained it, the awareness of what had happened, how he had lost control, what he had let out, it just crushed him. As his breath got steadier is hands raised to hide his face, while a whirlwind of thoughts sweeped over his mind: control, restraint, disappointment, violence, judgement and death, death, death, death.  
He was exposed. Fucked up everything. Exposed.

He got up like an automaton.  
"Dex" the side glance he gave her wouldn't have feelt safe behind concrete walls "don't go".  
Her hand laid light on the hard, tense muscles of his back. He turned around in disbelief, glossy eyes as open as it can get, full of fear and hate.  
He couldn't control his actions yet, but it was fine. It was worth it.   
She grabbed his right hand and pulled it towards her neck, hard against her carotid artery so that he could feel her heartbeat. The long fingers  twitched erratically on the spot, unsure of what to do.   
"You may be wandering why I'm doing this" his hand closed on her neck "and if I wouldn't be better dead" her voice didn't flinch "but if you decide otherwise, I think there's something we both share"  
It seemed he had to gather the strenght to talk from every single one of his cells, just to utter that single word  
"What?"  
"Monsters"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's hard to write about something you're fairly well acquainted with, and I'm afraid I took something for granted as I wrote the fight scene.   
>  Please let me know if you feel something is missing in the sequence. Hope you enjoyed!


	6. Gunpowder

The feeble definition of a second does not include how long, hard, heavy dripping a second can get.  
And _that_ second seemed to last good part of forever, his fingers on her neck and her hand on his back making him feel both uncomfortable and safe at the same time.  
As he was regaining his sanity,slowly slipping into reality again, the wish for choking her, for beating her senseless and lifeless reached him before the awareness that _there was no point hiding anymore_ , but it only lasted a second. A very, very short one this time, his grasp on her neck getting more solid as she looked into his eyes like she could see right through him.  
As he let go, she didn’t flinch. She even slowly touched his hand as he pulled away.

There had been just one other person who never flinched – Dr Mercer – and she was the one telling him that he had to follow a moral compass that would allow him to refine and suppress those needs inside of him. But they never died, they were just hidden and waiting for the right time to come out: out of a smoking gun, of a long-distance rifle, of his hands anyway.

“The same monster, huh” he uttered.  
“Been there from the beginning, yes. From the very first memory. Not feeling guilty no matter what you do, or how badly they punish you. Then being told that you _have_ to feel sorry for other people, that you _must_ feel the need to help them. Any of that ring a bell?”  
Dex looked at her with a blank stare.  
“And you know what?” she proceeded “you do that. You fake it because that’s the only way they will leave you be, and you help, you feel sorry and you get so good at it they say you’re actually such a good person... and you are, you’re a good liar”  
“It doesn’t go away... ever. Right?” he seemed unable to collect more than short words “deep inside... deep inside you’re still the same, just more frustrated” Dex looked at the ground like if what he said had hit him hard behind his head.  
“My... parents died. I think it started there”  
And that’s where he started too. Keeping their voices low, gestures pointing the notions they just couldn’t find words for, stares and nods as their lives flowed through one another: their non-empathic behavious, being unable to actually play with other kids, psychotherapy, attraction for death, psychotherapy again and as the adult age approached, being patched instead of fixed: the rigid scheme of rules they had to follow, sticking to a predetermined routine, choosing examples of good people to be inspired by – everything not to show their true self anymore, as behaving like if they were different persons would have actually _made_ them different.  
And still, they both chose murder for a job.

“We _have_ to hide it, I know that” she stopped his claim by raising her hands “I am not doing all this to tell you to go on a murder spree. I am doing this because I want to know how it is being able to be... sincere”  
Tears filled his eyes as the feeling hit him: what would have his life been without all the hiding, the rules? What would have meant being fully accepted? He was feeling this huge nostalgia for something he never had.  
Sweat was dry on their skin and they were both cold, but were shivering for a different reason as their worlds shattered. Both knew it was the only way to rebuild them from scratch.

They both knew they had to leave, be alone and have a shower as if it could scrub off them that feeling of uneasiness, the dust from all the certainties they wrecked as they talked.   
Diana was just unsure if it had been a good idea at all: in the end, he had lived following his strict principles for more than a decade and he had been fine, so maybe she had provided a bad service to both.  
And she couldn’t afford that: if he had talked, said all she had admitted to him, it would have been the end of her.   
Dex’ world had crumbled in too many places and too few time and it was just impossible for him to elaborate any further. Was she up to be trusted? Did he need what she was trying to provide?  
What if she had blurted it all out, now or later? It would have been the end of him.  
But, no matter their choices, there was no coming back as they walked into the locker rooms.

Under the shower, Diana considered how imprudent she had been. This training was meant to be her redemption, her chance to come back clean and do her fucking job again – which was murder and which she needed.  
Now, she had assumedly screwed it all up just because she felt she _had_ to grab this chance to have a soulmate after what, three days of knowing him? That would have surely given her an accurate profiling.   
She punched the wall hard, blood on her knuckles promptly washed away by flowing water. What the hell was she thinking about? Was she really so desperately alone? Fuck it.

As she grabbed her bag and headed out of the locker room towards the shooting range, she hoped the smell gunpowder on her hand would have made her feel better.  
She didn’t even wear the vest but instead just grabbed the rifle felt, which felt heavier than ever. The earmuffs shut the world out as her mind simplified to autopilot and breathing and aiming became all she cared for. Target at 500 yards. Take aim. Exhale. Adjust. Shot.  
She missed.  
Frustration rised like a grenade ready to explode, clip being removed just as hands wrapped on her hands, adjusting aim for her like it was the easiest thing in the world, her body felt naked without the vest as warmness permeated her back, fingers guided her fingers on the trigger, and as she shot, as the bullet hit the perfect center of the bullseye, the grenade inside her remained unexploded and the universe seemed to be finally quiet.

Four hands laid the rifle on the holding: so she hadn’t imagined it.  
Eyes wide open, she turned around while removing the muffs as if they were on fire.  
Dex was behind her, arms still stretching out on the sides of her. He blinked his eyes for a split second too long, then looked in her eyes, void against void.

“You... you really think this is a good idea?”  
She twitched her head “I’m sorry?”  
“No hiding. No hidden monsters. Just plainly being ourselves”  
“Just among the two of us. Don’t tell me you have never wanted to be... accepted”  
“How do I know will I stick to the right path? I won’t lose control”  
She touched his arms, a slight touch on his forearms slowly approaching his shoulders.  
“Because there’s nothing you need to change about who you are, or what you do. That’s part of being accepted.”  
“What’s the difference then?”  
“Knowing that no monster of yours will ever scare me or drive me away”  
Dex swallowed, that feeling of nostalgia taking over again. He felt safe, as safe as the only other person who wasn’t scared of his monster did make him feel.  
His hands wrapped around her back in a trembling embrace. She laid her head just below his shoulder, two broken up things that wouldn’t be made whole again just by being held together, but at the moment that mattered not.  
For a second, monsters shut up and the smell of gunpowder was all that could be sensed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this chapter took so long! I had ideas and everything but had to write another assay and am still studying for an examination.  
> I realize now I put some warnings on the whole fic but they won't apply until further chapters - but they will eventually.


End file.
